intro grabbed your attention and signified the coming of the next shit. Rapper’s Delight featured cats rocking directly over the instrumental to Chic’s disco classic, Good Times. Led by Sugarhill’s sound, much of the backing of early rap music featured slick studio bands covering top dance or R&B hits, or at the least, lifting a bassline, and filling in from there. Cuts were so upbeat, it was like cats were celebrating getting on wax, and they were. Backpackers -- ascetic contemporary adherents of non-commercial hiphop -- would be loathe to admit it, but once folks figured out that they could get paid for doing something they loved, you best believe they were trying to get put on.

After the literal shock of the Sugarhill Gang’s record (many heads in New York thought that they were hearing Grandmaster Caz, his rhymes were so well known) subsided within the hiphop community, the fact that the public reception of this novelty fueled a market for more ‘rap stuff’ meant that real crews who’d put in work for years started getting signed and recording. But much like early blues musicians, their aunts and uncles on the black musical continuum, most of them were signed to exploitive contracts that did little for the artists beyond providing them the thrill of having a record pressed and maybe getting a little radio shine. These early rappers and deejays, however, maintained an optimism that they were on their way to stardom, and out of the ghetto.

As the Funky Four rapped on “That’s The Joint” in 1980,

“Let’s go to work, Let’s go to work/
we gave a lot of parties and we got jerked/
but that’s alright, because we be good sports/
cause we know someday we’ll get the big… payoff”.




peace & blessings,

x.

"I'm on the Zoloft to keep from killing y'all." - Iron Mike